


Young at Heart

by prettybirdy979



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1247017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is feeling down about his upcoming birthday. Sherlock cheers him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young at Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PipMer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipMer/gifts).



> For PipMer, to cheer her up on her birthday. Happy Birthday my friend, you who are one of the wisest, kindest and definitely not old people I know.

‘I don’t understand.’

John waved vaguely in the direction of his flatmate as he found himself lacking the energy to perform any other action. ‘What don’t you understand?’

‘You.’ Sherlock said simply and John found it in himself to lift his head to look at his friend.

‘You don’t understand me?’ John tried to compute the man who knew everything not understanding him and kept getting an error.

Sherlock frowned. ‘Of course not. That’s what makes you interesting.’ He looked at John like he was both blaming John for this state of affairs and thanking him. ‘But this is more specific. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.’

He rose and left the lounge room, leaving John to go back to his sulki-relaxing.

********

Thing was, John was fairly sure what Sherlock was referring to in his usual mysterious way. He had been acting out of sorts for two weeks now, to the point where Lestrade had mentioned it at their last crime scene. Though he had framed it as something Sherlock must have done to John, instead of John just being irrational.

Which he was being. It was just a birthday, one more day like every other he had ever had. Much better then some, with less chance of being shot. Well, supposedly less chance then when he was in Afghanistan though Sherlock might find a way to increase his chances in England. He was going to wake up as a 45 year old man and go to the pub that night for drinks.

He wasn’t old. Nope. Not at all.

Maybe if he told himself that a few dozen times, it might sink in.

********

John blinked awake on his birthday to find Sherlock staring down at him. He jumped automatically, wondering why he hadn’t noticed his flatmate coming in and practically sitting on him for however long it was.

‘Jesus, Sherlock! What are you doing?’ John tried to sit up but Sherlock shifted his weight so John was pinned to the bed.

‘Collecting data.’

Frustrated, John raised an eyebrow while giving Sherlock his best ‘You are an insane genius and I am not in the mood for your insanity’ glare. ‘What for?’

‘Deductions.’

‘Gathered that. What on?’ Sherlock shuffled a bit then leant in closer so he was staring at John from less than a foot away.

‘You. Are you going to keep asking the obvious?’

‘Nope.’ John said with a wide smile, before putting his hands under Sherlock’s arms, linking them behind his back and quickly gaining the leverage to flip them in a tangle of blankets and flailing arms.

‘John!’ Sherlock glared at him, though the effect was ruined when one of John’s pillows chose that moment to fall over and land on Sherlock’s head.

For a second John stared at the look of complete surprise on Sherlock’s face before he burst out laughing, having to sit back to avoid losing the ability to breath. Sherlock followed him up, still glaring though he took the time to throw John’s pillow at the window first. Which only made John laugh harder.

‘Shut up.’ Sherlock whined. ‘John! You’re being ridiculous.’

‘So ‘re you.’ John gasped out, fresh laugh bubbling to his chest every second he looked or listened to Sherlock.

His flatmate suddenly narrowed his eyes and then gently pushed at John. Caught off guard, John flailed and fell backwards. His body hit his bed, which was a relief as his head fell off the edge and he now had a lovely upside down view of his wall.

‘Sherlock!’ John growled as Sherlock laughed behind him. Without thinking, John raised his body and dove across his bed for his flatmate, trying to pin him to the bed. Sherlock wriggled out of the hold but then tried to reverse it and pin John. Used to this kind of fighting, John managed to escape and it soon descended into a wrestling match.

Finally, by a silent and mutual agreement, they collapsed on the bed beside another, breathless and elated.

‘Feel better?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Surprisingly, yes. What was that all about?’ John rolled his head so he was looking at his friend instead of the ceiling.

‘I was trying to figure out a way to cure you of this ridiculous notion you somehow got that you’re old.’ Sherlock shrugged. ‘Then you surprised me, as you always do.’ He looked over at John and with a soft smile, brushed a strand of hair out of John’s eyes.

‘Wrestling with me like we were a pair of ten year olds was supposed to make me feel young?’ John found himself turning his head into Sherlock’s hand when it continued to run down his cheek.

‘It did help.’

John smiled softly. ‘Yeah, it did.’ He found himself staring at Sherlock’s lips, like he had so many times and found himself wanting to kiss them. _Why not?_ He thought.  Emboldened, he leant forward and pecked Sherlock on the lips. ‘Thank you.’

Sherlock blinked. ‘John?’

‘Not interested?’ A touch of hurt crept into John’s voice, even though he knew rejection had been a risk. That was why he hadn’t done it _before_ , damn it.

‘Did I say that?’ Sherlock darted forward and returned the kiss. ‘I didn’t think you were.’ He frowned. ‘Another surprise.’

Suddenly Sherlock’s eyes twinkled with mischief. He leant in and kissed John again, slightly longer than before but still nothing beyond a chaste kiss. Then in a flurry of movement he was off of John’s bed and in the doorway.

‘If you want to return that kiss,’ He said, his eyes gleaming and his smile wide, ‘you’re going to have to catch me.’ And with that he was gone, down the stairs to the rest of the flat.

John surged off his bed and raced after him, determined to catch his mad fla-frie-Sherlock and return the kiss.

And for the first time in ages, he didn’t feel old. Quite the opposite in fact.  


End file.
